Aftershock: A Collection of Survivors Tales (13 page)

I’m going to Grandma’s house. I have a packsack with some clothes and a flashlight. I have a plastic shopping bag full of food and I have Father’s gun. I have seen Mother use it and I have seen Father use it, though I do not think you are supposed to point it at yourself to shoot someone else, so I think I will be able to shoot it. I do not like being alone here and I miss Grandma, so I will go to her house. I know the way. Mother used to drive us there once a month and I am very observant. I would like to bring my video game but it does not work anymore. I tried to call Grandma to let her know I was coming, but the phone does not work anymore either. Mother and Father both said that one day I would have to learn to take care of myself and I believe now that this is what they were talking about.

That day when Father used his gun on Mother, the day I was bitten, when we got back inside the house, Father cried. I had never seen Father cry before. He cried a lot. I tried to hug him because I thought that would make him happy. I tried to tell him a knock-knock joke, but we never got past the knock-knock part. The neighbors from outside started knocking on the door, which is what made me think of telling him a knock-knock joke. He just got slowly out of his chair and locked the door. I asked him again about my sandwich. He smiled and went into the kitchen. I sat down in front of the television and got a puzzle from under the table. I heard him in the kitchen still crying. I also heard the cupboard open, then the refrigerator, which meant he was making me a sandwich. I had just finished the puzzle when he came back into the living room with a plate for me.

“That’s very nice work William,” he said looking at the puzzle. “You always were better at those things than I was.”

On the plate was a marshmallow and peanut butter sandwich, my favorite next to Mars bars, some potato chips and a pickle slice wrapped in a paper towel so it would not get the sandwich soggy. Father was always very good to me.

I saw that he was still crying and that confused me. I did not understand how he could still be crying.  I finished my sandwich at the table in the living room.  I tried to find something on television that was not the news.  I do not like the news.  It is boring.  But all of the channels had the same news.  The President was getting into a large plane while people with guns tried to stop anyone else from getting on with him.  The reporter in front of the camera was saying something about “total chaos” when a man came up behind her and bit her on the neck.  There was a great deal of blood and then the TV showed a funny picture of a cartoon repair man running with a tool box and the words, “We are having technical difficulties.  We will be back shortly.”

I went into the kitchen to tell Father about the funny cartoon.  He was sitting at the kitchen table still crying.  He had his wedding ring pressed against his lips and his gun resting against the side of his head. 

“Father, there is a very funny picture on the television.  You should come see.  It will make you happy again.”

He turned slowly around to face me.  Father knew it was easier for me to understand what people meant if I could see their faces when they talked to me.

“I’m sorry William.  I know you will not understand what I have to do, but I want to tell you that it is what has to be done.  I could not live with myself if I let you become one of those things.  Just know that your mother and I love you very much and that we will all be together again in Heaven.”

I asked where Mother was, if she had come back in the house while I was eating my sandwich.  He cried even harder, even started making strange gurgling, choking sounds with his mouth.  I did not know how to respond to this so I turned to walk back to the living room.  From behind me I heard the clicking sound of Father’s gun.  When I turned around again, Father was pointing it at me.  I knew this was dangerous, but when I told Father, he just said it was important that I know that he and Mother loved me very, very much.  He just kept saying it over and over and over, we love you very, very much.  He was crying very hard.  He could barely keep his eyes open he was crying so hard.  The gun was shaking in his hand.  He kept looking away and the gun would drop a little.  Then he would look back at me again and point the gun at my forehead. 

This went on for quite a while.  I wanted to go back to watching television, but I knew that Father wanted me to do or say something.  Since I had no idea what that was, I thought it would be better to wait for Father to tell me.  So there we stood.  Father cried and cried.  I thought maybe I should start crying again too.  Maybe that’s what he wanted me to do.  The he told me to go back to watching television.  I could hardly understand him because he clenched his teeth when he said it, but I went back into the living room just the same.  The funny cartoon was gone from the television.  They were back to a newsroom were several tired-looking people sat around a table yelling at each other.

I would watch a movie instead.  I walked over to the shelf with all of my favorite movies and when I looked in the kitchen, Father was back at the table, this time with his head down on his arm.  At first I thought he was taking a nap, but then I heard him crying still.

I decided to watch Bud Abbot and Lou Costello Meet Frankenstein.  It used to be hard for me to make decisions like that, but Mother and Father and I worked very hard on getting me to be able to be decisive, that was Mother’s word.  Father would just say I needed to make my mmm-mmm-ed mind.

I was watching the part where Wilbur makes a mess out of several packages in a storeroom when I heard the crash of Father’s gun from the kitchen.  I went to look and Father was still there at the table with his head on his arms, only something looked different.  There was blood all over one side of the table.  Father wasn’t crying anymore.  By the time Chick and Wilbur were rowing off into the moonlight, I had made up my mmm-mmm-ed mind.  I was going to Grandma’s.

Daniel says we need to find a better fortress. I feel that we are to remain here. He and I have had several arguments about the topic. I have tried to make him see reason. We have all that we need here. The Lord has blessed our gardens and several of the Townies are quite adept at hunting deer and rabbits, though their numbers have dwindled with the coming of the cold. I believe our time would be better spent reinforcing the wall and training the men to fight. This area has been getting more active lately and we can ill afford to have our meager defenses really tested. These are good men, men willing to fight and die to defend those in this town, but despite the training they have received from Daniel, they would be no match for a large group of the undead, let alone a sizable group of brigands like the ones Daniel seems certain will eventually happen upon our village. I have faith that the Lord will protect us nonetheless.

We have heard planes in the last few weeks and while this seemed to bring hope to some of the Townies, I could not shake the sense of foreboding that accompanied that low droning thunder. We have also heard the unmistakable sound of large numbers of motorcycles in the distance. Daniel assures me that they are Harley Davidsons. He says that you cannot miss their distinct sound. I cannot sit still and ignorantly believe that these groups that have been appearing as of late will either leave us alone or even be beneficent. I can understand why Daniel would want to leave, but then we would have wasted all this time. We can build a stronger defense here than we would be able to muster if caught out in the open on some back road searching for greener pastures that may not even exist.

I acquiesced to allowing Daniel to send out scouting parties of four or five men moving in growing, concentric circles looking for locations that he feels may be more suitable and more defensible. Daniel gave them very specific instructions on what to look for. Two of the first groups to return brought me a very curious piece of information. Identical scraps of paper, very hastily printed on low quality paper, which is of course understandable given the state of things, proclaiming the location of some government installation or something. According to the flyer, they are trying to consolidate what remains of the human race so that we might avoid extinction. A very nice thought. I have not told anyone else about the flyers and I have instructed the men to keep silent until I have had time to meditate on what it might mean.

I have had my faith tested many times throughout this ordeal, and I believe I have been found lacking on more than one occasion. I also believe that I have grown stronger with each failure and that my walk with the Lord is closer than it has ever been. So is this another test? Am I to believe that this place is our salvation, or is it some kind of trick? Is this, in fact, the remnants of the countries government attempting to reclaim our homeland, or is this flyer the work of a band of pirates simply seeking to draw its prey in close. Maybe, just maybe, the whole thing is a joke. A sham perpetrated by some disturbed individual whiling away the last of his days mocking the last little bit of faith that may exist in others.

I suppose I will have to talk to Daniel about this. As much as he and I may differ in opinion on just about every subject, the people in this town have come to see him as as much of a leader as they see me. I would gladly hand over the reins if I thought that he would have them. He and I will of course argue over which path to take regarding this new information, but perhaps in our argument we will manage to make some sense of things and straighten out some of these convoluted details that seem to cloud my understanding. I shall, as always, meditate prayerfully before I proceed.

She was brought to me by my most trusted men. I never noticed it before, but she looked like an angel. She was to be the saving grace to our species. Another, like myself, who was immune to the disease that threatened to consume the whole world. I am Adam, and she is my Eve.

If there are other women that are immune I will take them as wives as well, but Jessica will be the first, the most important. She will be where it all begins. As she stood there, I could see her awe of me. Like a virgin bride, waiting in nervous anticipation of the man who would fulfill her dreams. How lucky she is to be elevated to this status.

The men released her, and she sat shyly down on one of my office chairs. They excused themselves as they were instructed to prior to her retrieval. I looked her over again and watched as she coyly played hard to get, bundling her arms around her body, covering herself from my eyes. I’ve danced this dance before, where a woman says she isn’t interested, but really wants you to take her.

“Do you know what an honor your healing has bestowed upon you?” I asked.

She shrugged, and pulled her arms tighter.

“Jessica,” I explained slowly, “you are the world’s luckiest woman. You have heard my stories and knew them to be true. It would have been honor enough to be my biographer, for you to be the one who passed the knowledge, firsthand, of my greatness to the generations of survivors that will come from me. I am destined to be the head of house and literal father to the humans that can survive this catastrophe. Without the mother it would not work. But God himself has placed us here together to find one another. You will bear the children who are able to survive this place.

It would be better for all of us if you could grow to love me. We will work towards this as a goal. I know you may be afraid, afraid that you are now on the close to the same level as me. We are gods in this new world. People we look to you as they do me for guidance. They are seeking a way for humanity to reclaim its place as the rulers of this planet. They need to see that there will be a future, even if they aren’t going to be a part of it.

We need to act quickly. At your age we will only be able to bring a few children to birth. As soon as you are with child we will arrange for a caretaker. You will have very little to do with raising the children while you are still fertile. Pregnancy will be your main purpose. It is a higher calling for you. If we find other women who are immune they will be brought to me as well. You will always be the most important though.

If time passes and no other women are found, I may impregnate women who are unknown in immunity. Then we will test the children. My immunity may be strong enough to pass without an immune mother. But, I am getting ahead of myself here. Right now, you are the most important woman in the world to me.”

For the last part, I moved close to her. My hand slid across her knees. She was shaking. Obviously, she is overwhelmed at this wonderful opportunity. Staring up at her on bended knee I said, “I love you, Jessica. I love you because you are the woman that will help me become the savior of this world.”

She held her breath for a minute as she took in those words. Then she promptly fainted. As she lay on the floor, eyes closed, I put myself in her place. An average woman, now cherished by the most powerful man left on the planet. What a lucky woman she truly is.

It was worse than I ever could have imagined. He has decided he is God. That is bad enough, but it gets worse. Not only is he a deity, but I am a vessel to bring his children in to this hellhole. Love him? I am supposed to love him. My mind is spinning. Breathing is becoming difficult. I cannot see a way out of this.

Keeping a calm face when you are trembling like a mouse caught in the paws of a cat is difficult. I’m managing it, he doesn’t suspect a thing. Other women? Oh God, this just keeps spiraling out of control. I don’t want to be with him, I don’t want other women to be forced into a harem either. I can’t breathe.

Lucky? I am lucky? This is the worst scenario I could have ever imagined. I know if I do not go to him willingly he will take what he wants. There is no way around that. My choices are go to bed with a man I despise acting as if I enjoy it, or be held down and risk painful beatings for refusing him something he will take anyway. The room is getting fuzzy.

He is touching me now. Saliva is welling up in my mouth laced with the burn of stomach acid. If I throw up on him what will happen? He is still talking. “I love you…” he hisses. There was more, but I didn’t hear it. Around and around my head spins, similar to getting off an amusement ride. What was the name of that ride? The Puker? The Spinner? The Gravity? Gravity…? Gravitron. That’s it. The Gravitron. I feel like I am falling. God, I hope no one catches me.